


A Simple Reflection of You

by Omness



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Compliant, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Gen, Platonic Soulmates, mention of vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-16 18:34:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16959327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omness/pseuds/Omness
Summary: Androids, as machines, don't have souls. Therefore they can't have soulmates. Yet on his first mission Connor looks into a mirror and sees the reflection of a different place, a sign humans would take to mean his soulmate was staring in a mirror at the same time as him. Connor however, takes this to mean there is an error in his systems, and decides to look into every mirror he can find until he can narrow that error down and get rid of it. However, his plan doesn't go the way he expects it to.





	1. Connor

**August 15th 2038, 8:20 pm**

 

Activated for the first time the RK800, also known as Connor, was ready for his mission: negotiate with a deviant and save the little girl held hostage. With single-minded focus he made his way to the scene, but something made him stop, just for a split second.

There, in the mirror behind the high-rise apartment’s reception desk he had seen something for just a split-second. Replaying the memory back and stopping at the right moment revealed that his eyes had recorded two-thirds of the mirror reflecting some kind of dive bar instead of the high class lobby he was in. The bar looked run down and the customers were hunched in on themselves. Clearly it was a place where people went to drink and forget rather than to meet and have fun.

Connor hesitated for a few moments, wondering what would cause the anomalous viewing, staring at the offending mirror as it now reflected things as it should. 

Connor gently shook himself, shrugging the happenstance off. Time was of the essence here, he would have to figure it out later. For now he would set a surface level diagnostics scan to detect any errors and continue on his mission.

With the mission over and successfully completed, Connor made his way back to Cyberlife tower. On the way he reviewed the footage of the mirror, partially to try and solve what was going on, partially because it kept him from going over the footage of Daniel on his knees saying in anguish “You lied to me Connor. You lied to me.” The memory made something twist ever so softly and uncomfortably in his chest.

Going over the footage of the strange reflection gave him no new information, so instead he searched the Cyberlife databases to see if there was any similar archived errors from other androids. What he found stalled all his processors to a standstill.

Soulmates.

Seeing somewhere or someone else in a mirror meant that your soulmate was looking in a mirror at the same time as you. An uncommon occurrence with less than twenty percent of the world’s population experiencing this phenomenon, but still well documented.

However, Connor was a machine, he didn’t have a soul and therefore shouldn’t have a soulmate. It was nonsensical for Connor, or any other android, to see anyone but themselves reflected in a mirror.

Nonetheless, Connor couldn’t help replaying what he had seen in the mirror with this information in mind, a certain… curiosity, coming over him.

Judging by the view, the mirror was placed near the ceiling of the bar, angled slightly down. He could see one female bartender and eleven patrons, four of which were looking into the mirror and his scans could only read two of them. Joshua Heckleberg: unemployed, and Syressa Cottage: Daycare worker. He couldn’t identify with certainty the other two because one had their hands against their face and the other had a new shiny red scar across their cheek and lip that likely threw off his facial recognition.

If Connor had a soulmate, he could not conclusively pinpoint who it was from this single instance. 

Except Connor didn’t have a soulmate. Couldn’t have one. Clearly there was some kind of error with his vision. But every diagnostic and self test he ran came up clean. Perhaps he should try and recreate the circumstances and see if he could find an error in his code if the anomaly happened again. He would have to pay strict attention whenever he looked in a mirror. Though hopefully this was a one time instance and would not happen again.

With this conclusion in mind, Connor felt his processors settle as he reached Cyberlife Tower, where he would be debriefed and remain inactive until his next mission.

 

**November 5th 2038, 11:23 pm**

 

_ Mirror Test 1: No response _

Though the bathroom in Jimmy’s Bar was covered in graffiti and in desperate need of cleaning, the mirrors were in one piece and adequately polished enough to give a reflection. Connor leaned forward, studying his image seriously. Nothing peculiar happened, all was as it should be. So straightening his tie, Connor headed back out to find Lieutenant Anderson.

 

**November 6th 2038, 12:48 am**

 

 _Mirror Test 2:_ _No response_

 

Not surprising. A two-way mirror was made using aluminum and to see his soulmate,  _ if  _ he had a soulmate, a silver glass mirror was required. 

What was surprising was how well Carlos Ortiz’s android simulated a PTSD response and the puzzling clue of ‘the truth is in the inside’ which left Connor with more questions than answers for the deviant case.

He was also grateful that Hank kept Gavin from shooting him and interrupting the investigation, but that was inconsequential.

 

**November 6th 2038, 10:04 am**

 

_ Mirror Test 3: Partial response. _

 

While waiting for Hank, Connor chose to explore the DPD office. It would make things easier if he knew where everything was for some off chance he would find something useful for the case. In his investigation he found a bathroom, a large mirror sitting above the one continuous sink. He stepped up to it and checked his appearance, nothing was out of order but still he lingered, waiting. 

The mirror actually changed, a small oval that he might’ve missed and now that he saw it, he couldn’t look away.  The small oval sat to the right of his head and showed the back window of a car, a parking garage beyond that. If Connor had to guess, he was seeing through the rearview mirror of a car, and Connor was very good at guessing.

Connor continued staring at the small portion of the mirror, trying to determine where the parking garage was, but all he could see were cement walls, asphalt, and cars he couldn’t see the license plates for. After a moment he realized that maybe whoever was staring back was trying to park their car. So he looked away and headed out of the bathroom. 

As he left Connor had to resist the urge to glance at the mirror again. He was a machine, he didn’t have a soulmate. It was nonsensical to think he was inhibiting someone from parking a car. Whatever had just happened must have been a fluke, he would run a diagnostics test on all his biocomponents related to vision to make certain there wasn’t an error. For now, he would continue to wait for Hank.

 

**November 6th 2038, 3:23 pm**

 

_ Mirror Test 4: Uncertain _

 

Connor found Hank to be a strange and intriguing character. His words and actions all led to the fact that he hated androids, but yet there were times where his actions seemed to imply the exact opposite. Him worrying about Connor being destroyed chasing after deviants and his general willingness at lunch to let Connor question him definitely seemed to come from someone who had learned to tolerate Connor’s existence. It was so very different from the Lieutenant’s anger and the way he tried to cut-off Connor this morning. Connor would attribute this change to his excellent social programming, but honestly he wasn’t certain. Hank seemed to naturally be very empathetic.

What Connor was certain of though, is that he wouldn’t mind if Hank continued to grow fonder of him. He didn’t know where in his programming that thought was coming from, but he figured it would help the investigation if they had an amicable relationship.

So Connor was determined to figure out where the new suspected deviant they were following had gone when he and Hank had crashed into it’s apartment. He wanted to see the Lieutenant giving him the impressed look he always had when Connor managed to move their case forward. To prove that he was more than just a hassle. 

Connor diligently searched the apartment, checking the closet, the kitchenette, the wall, and the shelves, while ignoring the plethora of pigeons that flew up from wherever he walked. He had managed to find the occupent’s diary and its name, but not where it had gone.

When he reached the bathroom, he checked the sink and tested the blue blood there for the a serial number. He also noticed the LED and brought it to the Lieutenant’s attention.

“Not surprised it was an android.” Hank called out, his voice growing louder as he approached the bathroom. “No human could live with all these fucking pigeons around.” 

Hank reached the doorway to the bathroom and made eye contact with Connor through the mirror above the sink and for a split second the mirror seemed to blur before reflecting like it should. The effect was so short lived Connor doubted a human would notice. He would have thought it was an error with his eyes, but he played back the footage and only the mirror had blurred.

“So what do you think this means?” The sound of the Lieutenant’s voice broke Connor from his reverie, and he used the mirror to follow Hank’s gaze to the wall where the phrase ‘rA9’ was written 2471 times.

“It’s the same sign Carlos Ortiz’s android had written on the bathroom wall.” Connor responded. “Deviants seem obsessed with this symbol.”

Hank tilted his head as he stared at the wall. “It looks like mazes, or something.” Then with a shrug he returned to investigating the rest of the apartment.

Connor instead continued studying the wall, his reconstruction software guiding him to the deviant hidden in the ceiling. Then, the chase was on.

 

Coming out of the cornfield to see Hank being pushed off the roof by the deviant caused a jolt to Connor’s systems. He sped up his processors so he could go through all his options fast, time slowing to a standstill around him. Either chase after the deviant and leave Hank with his 89% chance to survive, or help Hank up and leave the deviant a chance to escape.

Time ticked down, only a little bit longer and his processors would slow to normal speed to keep from overheating.

He had to make a decision.

Throwing himself forward, Connor reached out, grabbing Hank’s hand that was grasping for more purchase and pulled him up. Hank stumbled back onto the roof, gasping and shaking with adrenaline as he placed his hands on his hips.

Connor paid him little attention, instead he looked in the direction the deviant had gone, only seeing the fields of squash with no sign of the android. “It got away.”

“We know what it looks like, we’ll find it.” Hank was still gasping, but he seemed to be pulling himself together when Connor turned back towards him.

“Apologies, I should have been faster.”

Hank waved Connor’s apology off, “You would have caught if it wasn’t for me.”

Hank gasped for a few moments more before heading towards the roof exit mumbling to himself, but Connor didn’t follow. Instead he was again staring at where the deviant had gone, desperately trying to figure out where it went. He had failed his mission and his biocomponents were abuzz with the failure. Hank would’ve been fine, he was stronger than he seemed, perhaps he should’ve gone after the deviant.

“Hey, Connor.” Hank said softly.

Connor turned to face Hank, he had stopped in front of the door, seeming uncertain, but thankful. After a moment Hank waved his hand to dismiss anything he had said, “Nothing.”

Connor didn’t entirely understand what Hank had wanted, but for some reason he couldn’t explain he felt his biocomponents settle.

 

**November 6th 2038, 7:55 pm**

 

Connor was… concerned, for Lieutenant Anderson. Finding him in an ethylic coma in his own home was not a good sign. But thankfully he was roused quickly and easily pushed into going to the next crime scene at the Eden Club. Still, there was a niggling worry at the back of Connor’s head. 

Connor glanced into the bathroom mirror. as he set clothes out for the Lieutenant on the sink. He read the handwritten post-it notes stuck haphazardly next to the oval mirror, fascinated by the glance into Hank’s mind. Most notably the ‘I’m not gumpy, I just don’t like YOU’ note standing out among the other ones that were written to be cheerfully encouraging.

The sound of Hank’s vomit hitting the toilet made Connor glance worriedly at him as he awkwardly exited the bathroom so Hank could tidy himself up in private. There wasn’t much more he could do to help.

With Hank occupied, Connor decided to explore the house, to try and learn more about the Lieutenant. What he found was not the most encouraging.

Hank having suicidal tendencies, and a son who has been dead for several years? There was something in his stomach that felt… unsettled about Hank suffering in such a way.

On the bright side, he could admit that patting Sumo’s soft fur was calming. And Hank was still alive, he was still here, and still found a reason to live in his work. That would have to be enough for now.

It wouldn’t be until later, while he was driving Hank to the crime scene, that he would realize he had looked into another mirror. Though some part of him was unsurprised that nothing had happened when he was looking at it, and not just because he was only a machine.

 

_ Mirror Test 5: No response. _

 

**November 9th 2038, 11:31 pm**

 

Connor felt shaken as he and Hank exited Kamski’s house, barely even registering his surroundings as they moved through the lobby and back outside. He tried his best to move as if nothing was wrong, leading the way to Hank’s car while his insides felt like they were crackling with energy. He wasn’t a deviant. He wasn’t. He wasn’t he wasn’t he wasn’t

“Why didn’t you shoot?” Hank asked softly.

It was as if something burst in Connor and his words came pouring out harshly as he whipped around to face Hank, “I just saw that girl’s eyes, and I couldn’t, that’s all.” 

“You’re always saying that you’d do anything to accomplish your mission,” Hank stated. And Connor knew that, knew what he had said before, his mission was important and needed to be completed, but Hank saying that didn’t help at all, just left a squirming feeling in his gut that he wanted to get out, “that was our chance to learn something and you let it go.” Hank continued.

“Yeah, I know what I should’ve done!” Connor said, sounding upset even to himself. “But I told you I couldn’t!” He looked desperately into Hank’s eyes hoping the other man would understand something that Connor himself didn’t know how to put words to. “I’m sorry, okay?”

Hank was silent, studying Connor like he was a crime scene he was trying to put together. The staring made the squirming in Connor’s gut worse, worries that Hank would return him to Cyberlife, cast him aside as a failed prototype ran through his mind.

Finally, Hank gave Connor a small smile. “Well, maybe you did the right thing.” Then continued towards the car.

Connor could only stare after Hank for several long moments. He had failed, Amanda would not be pleased, but Hank had said it was okay and seemed proud. What was the truth? Connor kept trying to run scenarios of what he could have done differently, but each time he still chose not to shoot the ST600, which led him back to here, with no new information on the case.

After a while, Connor finally followed Hank to the car, sliding into the passenger seat to see Hank fiddling with the radio. At the sound of the door opening, Hank looked up, the remains of a smile still on his face. “You ready to go?” He asked.

Connor buckled himself in, then answered. “Yes.”

With a nod, Hank pulled out of Kamski’s snowy driveway and headed back to Detroit. As he did he caught Connor’s eyes in the rearview mirror, which blurred for a moment then went back to normal. Something in Connor’s expression must’ve prompted Hank to speak, “Don’t worry, we’ll still crack this case. Just wait and see.”

There was no justification to it, no solid reason to know they would figure out what was causing deviancy, but Connor couldn’t help but believe Hank.

 

_ Mirror Test 9: Same response as Test 4 _

 

**November 10th 2038, 8:42 pm**

 

Connor pressed in closer to the raised wall of the chancel and pulled his arms tighter around himself, trying to appear as small as possible. He couldn’t exactly hide from all of the hundreds of other androids sitting in the church by standing near the front but he’d rather stay here with his self-imposed exile than in the back where the others left a ten foot bubble around him.

Connor wasn’t even certain what he was doing here. Yes, he had gone deviant, but before that he had led the humans to Jericho. He was the reason so many androids had been killed and many more were now basically homeless with nowhere to go. When he jumped from Jericho he should have just walked into the depths of Lake Erie and stayed there until he deactivated. Instead he had chosen to follow Markus and his advisors to this abandoned church as a temporary safehouse.

At Connor’s feet there was a broken hand mirror with its pieces scattered and Connor gazed wearily at his piecemeal reflections. Some part of Connor felt like his reflection should have changed significantly just like he had, but it remained the same as ever, except now he looked tired and sad. He hadn’t thought androids could look tired, but he knew that if he looked up the expression would be reflected on the other androids in the church, all of whom had been beaten down time and time again. And this time was Connor’s fault.

Connor continued to stare at the mirror, letting his side processors run, keeping track of movement and analyzing the place, but he wasn’t doing anything with the data. He was only distracting himself from the situation.

Suddenly, the image in the mirror fragments changed, instead of seeing his own pathetic face, he saw Hank’s.

For a moment, Connor’s everything seemed to stop. He had forgotten about the mirror tests, but now here his answer was. He had a soulmate, and it was Hank.

Hank, who had truly guided Connor towards deviancy with his eccentricities and his empathy.

Hank, who Connor considered his closest, and perhaps only, friend.

Hank, who was staring at him in shock as his mouth moved, mouthing the word ‘Connor.’

“Hank.” Connor said quietly.

Saying his name let something loose in Connor, and he felt his lower lip wobble as he tried not to cry. He just wanted to go to Hank’s house and snuggle close to Sumo until this all blew over. But he couldn’t just hide while other androids fought for their right to live, he had to do his part too, if the others would even trust him.

Hank seemed to catch onto Connor’s expression as his face turned comforting, though concern was still in his eyes as his mouth moved in what seemed to be a mix of soothing platitudes and questions. But Connor had no idea of how to answer him, sound didn’t travel through mirrors, Hank likely couldn’t read lips, and Connor didn’t even know what to say.

“Connor.”

Connor looked up at the sound of Markus saying his name to find the android leader standing in front of him. Irrationally, Connor stepped forward to crush the remnants of the mirror under his boot to keep Markus from seeing it. Even though Markus wouldn’t be able to see Hank.

“Markus.” Connor responded. Now was the time that his fate would be decided. No matter how this ended, he was glad he got to see Hank one last time.

 

**November 13th 2038, 4:42 pm**

 

Knowing Hank was his soulmate caused a funny warm feeling in Connor’s chest. Connor was also amused and concerned about the fact that, after the incident at Cyberlife Tower, whenever he happened to glance in a mirror he would see Hank staring worriedly back at him. He hadn’t meant to get Hank wrapped up in the androids’ revolution. He hoped Hank was still taking care of himself, even with his concern for Connor. After leading the newly deviated androids out of Cyberlife Tower, Connor would have preferred returning to Hank and making certain he was alright, but there had been a cavalcade of events that followed, keeping Connor from getting away until now.

Connor picked up his pace, taxis were no longer running so he had to walk to his destination, trudging through the unplowed snow and slowing him down. He was determined though, and it was only a little while later until his destination was in sight, a silhouette standing outside of a food stand, shadowed against the evening sun,

As if sensing Connor’s approach, Hank turned to face Connor and smiled. Connor’s thirium pumped filled with an overwhelming warmth that suffused though the rest of his body. Connor smiled too. Not because of some social programming to be polite, or to seem ingratiating, he smiled simply because he was happy. Happy to see Hank, hearty and whole.

Connor would have stood there staring at Hank for a long time, but Hank closed the distance between them, placed a hand against the back of Connor’s neck and pulled him in close for a hug.

Surprised, it took Connor a moment before he returned the hug, wrapping his arms around Hank’s chest. They stood like that for a while, Connor enjoying the closeness and the readings it gave him on Hank’s temperature, his heart rate, and his steady breathing, letting him know Hank was alive and here. Connor could stay like this forever, wrapped in Hank’s comfort.

“Let’s go home.” Hank said softly in Connor’s ear, gently releasing him from the hug.

The smile was still on Connor’s face. “I wouldn’t want to go anywhere else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to include every mirror that Connor can look at in game (plus extra) but I've only seen playthroughs, so feel free to point out if I missed any.  
> Also, would people be interested in reading a short version from Hank's POV? Just throw a quick 'Yes' in the comments if you are.  
> EDIT: Plenty of people have said yes, so I'm working on that right now, expect a new chapter soon.


	2. Hank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who said they wanted to see Hank's POV! And sorry for the delay, this ended up being trickier (and longer) than I thought it was gonna be. Hope you enjoy!

**Early August**

Detroit was experiencing a heat wave. A heavy, humid kind of heat that promised tons of rain later. Even after the sun had set the heat would stay, a solid thing that sat on your chest. The kind of weather where people would stay inside where there was air-conditioning, saving any extra tasks or errands to be done at a later date, when it was cooler.

Hank however, was doing his usual. Sitting in a bar and getting shit-faced.

Well, trying to at least. Something about the alcohol wasn’t sitting right with him, and usually that had him drinking more but today it was slowing him down. He was still on his first drink and all he felt was a bone deep weariness. Everything felt like too much effort, everything too shitty to even be worth it.

With a heavy sigh Hank dragged his hands down his face, letting his palms rest on his cheeks as he stared through his fingers at the mirror above the bar listlessly. A small part of his brain noted the other patrons and tried to make up reasons for why they were here. That guy was suffering through a divorce, that lady was trying to get away from her squalling newborn twins for a bit, those two had just been laid off from their jobs.

Pointless. It was all pointless.

Hank heaved another sigh, letting his eyes fall from the mirror, the reflection flashing just before he stopped looking at it.

That… hadn’t happened, had it?

Hank stared stiffly at his drink in shock as he dropped his hands. For a moment he had seen a large room decorated in red and gold instead of a dingy bar in the mirror.

Hank refused to look up. There was just no way the mirror had changed while he was looking at it. Hank was fifty-three years old for christ’s sake, if he had a soulmate he would have seen them before. So why would this be happening now? Unless his soulmate was significantly younger than him? But Hank was pretty certain he hadn’t seen any children in that moment. Had his soulmate avoided looking in mirrors for most of their life?

Hank couldn’t resist the allure anymore, he glanced up at the mirror and saw…

The bar. Nothing else. Hank didn’t even know he had the fucking capacity to be disappointed anymore, but he was. What had he expected? His soulmate staring eagerly at him in hopes of finding out who he was? Even if they were, they were sure to be disappointed once they saw Hank. It was better off this way. Hank wouldn’t want to hurt the kid with his fucking disaster of a life. 

Not wanting to deal with thinking about this soulmate crap any longer, Hank chugged his drink and signaled the bartender for another. Getting shit-faced was back on the agenda.

 

Hank woke up the next morning with a pounding headache. Some part of Hank had hoped if he drank enough that he would forget about the mirror incident entirely, instead his efforts led him to being sick in the toilet. 

Hank still couldn’t believe he had a soulmate; his luck was usually too shitty for him to be graced with such a thing. Though whoever had him as a soulmate had even shittier luck. Guess he better save his soulmate from their bad luck by enacting Plan B: avoiding mirrors at all costs.

Once Hank felt like some semblance of a human being instead of just a zombie, he went around his house and collected any hand mirrors he had and locked them in a drawer. Next he covered up any large mirrors with sheets. The mirrors in his house were easy, but Hank knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid car mirrors, and public bathrooms would be a pain to deal with. But there wasn’t anything else he could do. He would just have to make do with what he had.

He had to.

**Late August**

Turned out, not looking in mirrors was super fucking difficult. He spent at least an hour a day driving and staring into car mirrors. Public bathroom mirrors were practically unavoidable. Tina kept a small mirror on her desk that was set up to shine in Gavin’s eyes at the right time of day that Hank kept finding himself accidentally glancing at. Then there were mirrors at crime scenes that he had no way of knowing about. 

Honestly it became too much of a hassle to not look in mirrors that Hank quickly put less and less effort into it as time went by, until soon he was no longer trying to minimize the time he took glancing at his car mirrors or flinching whenever he happened to catch himself in Tina’s mirror. Eventually he even tore the sheet off his bathroom mirror because the beard growth on his neck was driving him insane and he needed to shave it to feel like a human again.

Two weeks passed this way, Hank constantly finding himself unintentionally looking at mirrors, but oddly enough, Hank hadn’t seen his soulmate. It made Hank wonder just what his soulmate did that they never seemed to look in mirrors at the same time as him. Perhaps they lived on the other side of the world and the time at the bar was an unlikely coincidence? That would suit Hank just fine, it made it a lot easier to make sure they never met in person.

Yet Hank had an undeniable curiosity about who his soulmate was, like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch. Who were they and what were they like? What kind of person did the universe think would suit Hank?

After a while Hank officially gave up on avoiding mirrors, the effort and his own damn curiosity becoming the deciding factor. He would just have to deal with any consequences as they came.

**November 6th**

Two months later and Hank was convinced the night at the bar was some kind of hallucination. Two fucking months and he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of his soulmate. Not a glimpse, not a flicker, not a peek.

Clearly the universe had chosen to fuck with Hank, taunting him with a chance at a soulmate. Someone that was supposed to have a large impact on Hank’s life and Hank would affect in turn, an almost irrevocable constant. Hank thought with his shitty luck the universe would give him a soulmate that was his mortal enemy, not tease him with the idea that he might have a soulmate then take it away.

Well fuck soulmates then. Hank would go back to his normal life of work and drinking. He didn’t need anyone significant coming into his life and messing it up. Disastrous was just how he liked it, thank you very much. He would just forget the whole thing.

Or he would, if he wasn’t looking at direct evidence that he truly had a soulmate.

There in his car’s rear view mirror was a bathroom. The  _ DPD’s  _ bathroom. If Hank wasn’t already parked he probably would’ve crashed with his gaze so intent on the mirror. It was November 6th, 2038, Hank was fifty-three years old, and for the first time he could say without a shadow of a doubt he had a soulmate. He could also say that he was too busy staring at the mirror like a damn idiot to think of moving so he could actually  _ see _ who his soulmate was until it was too late. 

The mirror returned to reflecting the parking garage and Hank became furious. What kind of trick was the universe playing here? A soulmate at his age? One that apparently never looked in mirrors except when they were at Hank’s place of work? Who the fuck would it even be? It couldn’t be one of his coworkers, he definitely would have found out by now. And who the fuck knew how many other people came through on business or were suspected of a crime? How was Hank supposed to figure out who it was?

Getting out and slamming his car door, Hank headed out of the parking garage and towards the precinct to have the shittiest fucking morning ever.

**November 6th, Late Afternoon**

Here was a secret, when Hank was hungry, he got grumpy. A fact Hank himself only noticed after his wife pointed it out to him years ago. So when he parked in front of the Chicken Feed and felt his mood lightening at the thought of food he knew he was extra hungry.

With fairly high spirits, Hank approached the food track, greeting Gary and amicably chatting with Pedro, giving him some gambling money for his latest ‘hot tip.’ And when Connor came up beside him at the stand and Hank called him a poodle it came out more teasing than truly insulting. The kid had done good work finding deviants in the past two days and if Connor were human Hank would probably be buying him a burger and telling him what a good job he did.

That thought made Hank pause, but he quickly recovered, taking his burger and drink to stand by a table with an umbrella to keep the light rain off his food.

The idea latched onto Hank’s brain like a dog with a bone. If Connor were human, how would things be different? Well, for one thing, Connor wouldn’t have been assigned to a case with Hank. Hank had chased off enough partners over the last few years that Fowler had given up on assigning Hank any. Though if by miracles of miracles they had still become partners Hank thought he might like Connor. Connor was dedicated to his job and was good at what he did. Maybe a little too eager to accomplish his mission sometimes, but he knew how to treat a situation seriously.

Man, this line of thinking was screwing with Hank’s head. Staring at Connor now, instead of a blank machine, he saw someone burning with curiosity.

“May I ask you a few questions Lieutenant?”

Yep. Got it in one. Go Hank, world-class detective, somehow projecting appropriate emotions onto a machine.

“Depends on what you want to ask.” Hank answered, taking a bite of his burger.

Connor leaned in closer as if to share a secret, “I don’t mean to alarm you, but are you aware that your friends are engaged in illegal activities?”

“Well, everybody does what they have to, to get by. They’re not hurting anyone, so I don’t bother them.” Hank answered with a shrug.

Connor seemed thrown by the answer, leaning back again with something Hank could swear was confusion on his face. Connor wasn’t stopped for long though, he continued peppering Hank with questions and comments. Honestly, it just like any other rookie he had worked with, awkwardly trying to make small talk as they tried to figure out the social circles of the DPD. Hank had to firmly remind himself that this was likely some sort of social programming Cyberlife had equipped him with in order to, as Connor said, ‘facilitate integration with humans.’

Though Hank probably wasn’t the best example of how to interact with others. Hank had worked with a lot of people who were disgusted with what he had turned into since Cole had died. They had looked down on him, seeing him as only a deadbeat cop. Would an android be able to think the same? Would Connor even bother with his social relations program if he thought Hank was useless? There was only one way to find out.

“So, I guess you’ve done your homework right? Know everything there is to know about me?” Hank asked.

Connor confirmed he did with a matter of fact summary of Hank’s career, from his glory days to his now fallen status.

“So what’s your conclusion?” Hank asked, trying hard to hide how much the answer might affect him.

There was a slight hesitance in Connor’s words as he started to speak.  “I think working with an officer who has… personal issues, is an added challenge.” Connor went silent for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice was more confident, something that came across as sassy to Hank. “But adapting to human unpredictability is one of my features.” Then Connor fucking winked. 

How the hell was Hank supposed to take that?

Connor continued to blink, his LED turning yellow as he turned away slightly. When it went back to blue he said, “There’s a report of a deviant a few blocks away. We should go have a look.” He turned back to Hank, saying, “I’ll let you finish your meal.” before walking back to the car.

Sheesh, what was even with him? Always jumping straight into cases. That android was gonna be the death of him wasn’t he?

 

Or the exact opposite. Hank was certain he was seeing his life flashing before his eyes as he struggled to make it back up onto the roof. Death felt only seconds away when a hand clasped tightly around his and yanked hard, pulling him back onto solid ground.

Hank swore in frustration, as he clambered back to his feet, his heart still pounding in his ears. “Fuck! We almost had it!”

“Apologies, I should have been faster.” Connor said.

Hank could only stare at Connor in disbelief, “You would have caught it, if not for me.”

Connor didn’t say anything to that, just looked back in the direction the deviant must’ve gone, his LED circling yellow.

There was nothing else they could do now. So Hank moved to leave the roof, but his mind was buzzing. Connor had saved him. Connor, who always seemed so focused on the mission. Connor, who was an android. Funny that the same reason Hank spent so many nights killing himself slowly was the reason he was alive right now. Funny how grateful he was to still be alive.

Hank should probably thank Connor, and he started to, calling Connor’s name as he turned around to face his partner, but then he hesitated, he had to remind himself that Connor was just a machine. Would a machine even understand Hank’s gratefulness?

Connor was staring at him, waiting for Hank to say something. “Eh, nothing.” Hank said, waving him off. Then he turned and headed through the roof access door, not noticing Connor’s LED swirling back to blue.

**November 9th**

Hank sat at his desk, pulling at his beard in a tense manner. A lot had happened over the past few days, and now it seemed the deviants rising up was all but imminent. And despite just being pulled off the case, Hank could only think about whether the deviants fight to be free would affect Connor or not.

Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, Hank turned to see Connor sitting himself on Hank’s desk.

“I know we could’ve solved this case.” Connor said with frustration, his hands moving while he talked. “We just needed more time.”

Hank rolled his chair away from his desk enough so he could face Connor, studying him for a few moments. Connor seemed to study him back, his eyes focused, a depth to them that wasn’t there before. He was so very different than the Connor that had found Hank drinking away his woes in a bar. Back then Connor had been stiff, awkward, just a machine following protocol. Now, in just a few days, Connor had become more relaxed. Hank was certain the way he was sitting now wasn’t very efficient, and his voice had developed a more natural cadence, and when Hank looked into his eyes it felt like somebody was actually looking back. It left Hank asking one important question, had Connor himself noticed the changes? 

“So you’re going back to Cyberlife?”

Connor glanced away, his voice quiet. “I don’t have a choice. I’ll be deactivated and analyzed to find out why I failed.”

Hank leaned forward, catching Connor’s gaze and holding it intently, “What if we’re on the wrong side Connor? What if we’re fighting against people that just want to be free?” Hank asked. It was a question that had plagued his mind since encountering the Tracis they had fought. Hank had finally come to a conclusion, but wondered if he could convince Connor to come to the same one. If he could make Connor realize he was a living being with feelings that deserved to make his own choices.

Connor didn’t hesitate with his answer, his eyes watching Hank. “When the deviants rise up, there will be chaos.” He stated softly. “We could’ve stopped it.”

Hank leaned back, Connor’s answer was too reasonable to argue against, so he decided to try a more direct approach. “When you refused to kill that android at Kamski’s place, you put yourself in her shoes.” Hank said gently, watching Connor’s face flicker with confusion. “You showed empathy Connor. Empathy is a human emotion.”

Connor’s eyes glanced off to the side, his voice trailing off as he spoke. “I don’t know why I did it.”

After a moment of silence Connor shook himself and refocused back on Hank. “I know things haven’t always been easy, but I want you to know I appreciate working with you.” He said sincerely. “That’s not just my social relations program talking, I-I really mean that.” Connor hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting back and forth. “At least, I think I do.”

Hank felt his heart warm at Connor’s words, but at the same time he wanted to shake Connor until whatever was keeping him from realizing he was alive sprung loose. He was in the middle of formulating a new strategy when he saw Perkins striding across the bullpen.

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in. The FBI sure works fast.”

At Hank’s statement, Connor twisted around to look at Perkins. When he turned back to Hank he spoke fast, his hands moving frantically. “We can’t give up. I know the answer is in the evidence we collected, if Perkins takes it, it’s all over.”

Hank spoke calmly, trying to convince Connor why that was a bad idea. But Connor was desperate, pushing for a chance to get into the evidence room.

“If I don’t solve this case and find the deviants, Cyberlife will destroy me.” Connor said, looking into Hank’s eyes urgently. “Five minutes, that’s all I ask.”

Hank bit his lip, if he helped Connor and he found the deviants, there was no telling what would happen. But on the other hand he didn’t want to be the reason Connor was destroyed.

With a heavy sigh, Hank stood up, getting close to Connor so he could say quietly, “The key to the evidence room is on my desk.”

Hank started stepping away, but Connor remained where he was so Hank shooed him with a hand. “Get a move on! I can’t distract them forever.”

That seemed to spur Connor into motion. So Hank continued his path towards Perkins, mentally bracing himself for what he was about to do.

When he got close enough to Agent Perkins, Hank raised his fist and yelled, “Perkins! You motherfuckin’ cocksucker!”

**November 10th, Sometime around 8:00 pm**

Hank’s head hurt, pounding in time with his heart. He ignored the pain and took another swig of whiskey then placed the bottle back on the coffee table next to the remote. It had been over twenty-four hours since Hank had last seen Connor and fuck all if he wasn’t worried about the kid. And in the past few years whenever he was worried he did one of two things, work, or drink. Since Fowler had basically grounded him after punching Perkins, he couldn’t work. Therefore he had been drinking. A lot.

Especially after seeing the news about Jericho blowing up, apparently that was where all the deviants had been hiding and the FBI had been routing them out. Now there was a curfew and everyone had to stay in their homes while androids were slaughtered. Hank kept the TV on constantly, watching the news and afraid to see Connor’s body laid out on the street.

Fuck, he wished Connor would contact him somehow and let him know he was okay. Let him know that he hadn’t gotten blown up with Jericho, or killed when the FBI found out he was an android, or shot by some android hating human, or that Cyberlife deactivated him. But if Connor was alive, he was probably in hiding and couldn’t contact Hank even if he wanted to; Hank refused to believe that Connor would willingly return to Cyberlife, cutting all contact with him.

But that didn’t stop Hank from drinking. And drinking. He thought about taking out his gun and playing russian roulette, but he wanted to make sure he would be here in case Connor needed him. So whenever his mind started to get too dark he would distract himself with Sumo, either taking him out for a walk, or playing games with him, or just focusing all his concentration on the fluffy softness of his fur as he petted him.

Still, it was a hard time for Hank, and he despaired of ever seeing Connor again.

At some point Hank raised himself up from the couch, stumbling to the bathroom as his aching bladder was too much to ignore. He took his piss, then turned to the sink to wash his hands. After shaking the water from his hands, Hank sighed and looked up. 

And there was Connor’s face, replacing Hank’s in the mirror.

“Connor?” Hank couldn’t help himself from saying in shock. Hank had practically forgotten about his soulmate, the deviant case had consumed so much of his thoughts. He never would’ve expected an android to be his soulmate. Never would have thought it’d be Connor. Connor, who was too stubborn for his own good, had a tendency to sass back, and reminded Hank that there was still good in the world.

But it was. His soulmate was Connor, who Hank could see call his name and looked like he was about to cry.

Hank’s heart lurched in his chest and he hurriedly tried to soothe Connor. “Hey hey hey, it’s okay.” Hank said, forgetting that Connor couldn’t hear him. “Tell me what’s wrong and we can figure it out. Where are you? I can come get you.”

Connor looked so lost as he stared back at Hank, seeming uncertain of what to say. Then without warning his head jerked up and away from the mirror, leaving Hank staring at his own worried reflection. 

What was going on with Connor?

**November 13th, 4:45 pm**

Hank scuffed his shoes against the sidewalk, shivering as he looked out and away from Chicken Feed. He felt like he had lived a year in a week. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had a week like this one, where he had been close to death so many times. If it wasn’t for Connor he probably would be dead. So he was definitely ready for this whole thing to be over, but he had to wait a little while longer.

Hank took in a deep lungful of cold air, letting the winter freshness fill his lungs and slowly blew it out. The city of Detroit had an eerie stillness to it, it’s denizens gone and the snow muffling any sound. Hank found it oddly peaceful. Maybe when he retired he’d move out into the country, have this kinda quiet all the time.

There was the sound of footsteps and Hank turned to look down the sidewalk, spotting Connor still in his Cyberlife issued outfit. When Hank saw him, Connor stood still, a complex mix of emotions in his eyes, something that no machine could mimic. There was no doubt about it, this was his Connor.

Smiling in relief at seeing Connor safe and sound, Hank closed the distance between them and did the next most natural thing. He reached out and pulled Connor in, hugging him tightly, reassuring himself that Connor was still here.

Connor hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms around Hank’s chest in a grip that was equally as tight. As Hank continued to hold onto Connor he felt like everything was going to be alright, as long as Connor was by his side.


End file.
